


The St. Oswald's Day Murder (1876)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary CLX [6]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Destiel - Freeform, Fraud, Johnlock - Freeform, Letters, London, M/M, Murder, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 01:39:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10426353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Case 3: The case of the dead body found hanging from a tree in the garden of Doctor Moore Agar - and the case Holmes solved from some four hundred miles away!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyster99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyster99/gifts).



> Mentioned elsewhere as 'the case of Doctor Moore Agar'.

Wishful Thinking  
Keynsham Square  
London 

Sunday July 23rd, 1876

Dear Holmes,

Thank you for your recent letter, and your congratulations on the successful conclusion to the first half of my course. I will of course have to spend a further four years completing various papers for the college before I am officially granted the coveted title Doctor of Medicine, but I am now in a position to do more work at the practice in Bloomsbury (the un-originally named Bloomsbury Practice!) where I have hitherto been working for one day a week, plus covering for absences. Unfortunately there are no vacancies for full-time staff there as yet, but they seem happy enough with my work thus far.

I mentioned back in Cambridge that I would have to move when the hospital element of my course came to an end. That move was precipitated, however, by the fact that my lodgings in Cowcross Street were badly damaged in a fire, caused by a stray cinder from the nearby railway line through Farringdon Station (mercifully I was absent at the time that this calamity occurred). I have since been exceptionally lucky to be temporarily housed at the family home of one my professors, who lives in Grape Street, not far from the Shaftesbury Theatre. He is none other than the famous Doctor Moore Agar, upon whom I was fortunate enough to make a most favourable impression by timing my visit to his house to when his daughter Jane was giving birth. He was truly grateful that I was there to ease his third grandson into the world, and has agreed to put me up until I can find accommodation of my own, into which I am now looking. The child was named Hieronymous, but is healthy despite that.

This brings me to the main point of this letter. Are you still interested in sharing rooms with me at some point? I would be looking for something as near as possible to both Harley Street and the surgery in Bloomsbury, so somewhere in the vicinity of Tottenham Court Road would be admirable.

I wish you luck at your own graduation this coming Monday, and my congratulations for having completed your own course of study.

Yours sincerely

Watson

Postscriptum: Because everyone asks me about it, the utterly risible name of the house was the choice of the late Mrs. Agar. One can only assume that her husband did something very wrong whilst she was alive to merit it.

+~+~+

Tarleton College,  
Grantchester,  
Cambridge

Friday July 28th, 1876

Dear Doctor (?) Watson,

Thank you for your letter. I am sorry for the untimely delay in responding, but Mother descended unexpectedly on me, and insisted on taking me for a short holiday in Skegness, of all places, to celebrate my finishing my course. She is, as I have said before, a force of nature, and I usually find it easier just to give in to her demands. I arrived back yesterday evening and had a chance to peruse your letter, so my congratulations on your own achievements thus far.

I would be delighted to take rooms with you. I plan to set up a business in London, my only proviso being the place that we eventually choose is moderately central. Your chosen area is certainly acceptable, and as you are in the vicinity, I would suggest that you continue your search. Regrettably I shall not be in the capital until the end of next month; Mother wants to visit some friends in the Borders after my graduation ceremony; the poor souls are unaware of the mælstrom that is about to descend on them! For which they would have my sympathy, except I am to be dragged along with her on this impromptu Caledonian tour!

I trust everything is well with your brother Samuel, of whom you often write so fondly. Once I have a definitive date for my arrival in the capital, I shall of course communicate it to you.

Yours sincerely

S. C. Holmes, Esquire

Postscriptum: Are you legally allowed to call yourself by the title 'doctor' as yet? I do not know how these things work.

+~+~+

Tarleton College,  
Grantchester,  
Cambridge

Monday July 31st, 1876

Dear Watson,

The graduation ceremony was today, and I do not think that I have ever been more embarrassed in my young life! Most students got to walk across the stage and accept their certificates with polite applause from the audience. _Most_ students. Only one had to suffer the mortification of his own mother whooping and cheering as if she were at one of those infernal football matches! I am so glad that I am leaving this place, never to return!

I enclose a list of the three place that Mother plans to visit, and the approximate dates that we shall be there. Unless, of course, someone warns the people that she is coming, and they decide to flee for their lives!

Still blushing,

S. C. Holmes, Esquire

+~+~+

Wishful Thinking  
Keynsham Square  
London 

Wednesday August 2nd, 1876

Dear Holmes,

Oh dear! Poor you, having to endure that at your very own graduation. I hope that you are surviving the trip through the cold northern kingdom. Technically speaking I am not supposed to call myself 'Doctor Watson' until I get handed the scroll confirming my M.D, but the hospital has advised me that they generally 'turn a blind eye' to those who use the phrase earlier than they should, so a doctor indeed am I!

Doctor Moore Agar's house is building up to a major ball this Saturday, which is St. Oswald’s Day. I should have mentioned that his son and I became friends because the latter too comes from Northumberland, though a little further north in the county, beyond Holy Island. Doctor Agar is a patriotic Northumbrian – he even flies the red-and-yellow flag in his back garden - and sometimes goes on at length about how the Scots stole the old northern part of our ancient English kingdom and made its largest city their capital, Edinburgh. Fortunately neither he nor any of his family play the pipes, Scottish or Northumberland; I had quite enough of that with dear Stamford! As, I am sure, did you in your time at Oxford!

As well as Preston, who is currently visiting his maternal grandmother in Brittany for a month, Doctor Agar has two other children, both of whom are home for the great day. His daughter Sophia is married with two children of her own, and is pleasant enough. Both the children are under three, but I do not much like her husband, a Mr. Morgan Foliot. He is half-Welsh and half-French, and therefore doubly hates the English. And he has far too high an opinion of himself. The doctor’s eldest son Rupert is also here; he is one of those anaemic-looking blond boys (I probably should not call him that as he is nearly thirty!) who always seem totally bored with life. He spends most of his time with his books, and does not seem to actually do anything for a living.

In a rather morbid act (in my opinion), Doctor Agar has commissioned a tree with various gifts for members of the household on it, in memory of the original Oswald who, it was said, had his various body parts hung in a tree after being defeated by the mighty King Penda at the battle of Oswestry (Oswald’s Tree) in six hundred and forty two. He mentioned his plans over dinner the other day, and I quite lost my appetite!

Yours sincerely

Watson

+~+~+

Wishful Thinking  
Keynsham Square  
London

Sunday August 6th, 1876

Dear Holmes,

If the general post does what it is supposed to, this should reach your stop in Hawick on the same day that you and your mother arrive. I do hope so, for the events of last night were quite shocking! They talk of history repeating itself, but…. well!

The ball proceeded as planned up to eight o’clock, when Doctor Agar led the family out into the back garden for a moment of remembrance around the tree. I should have added that it was a very small gathering; a few close friends including the local parish priest, who had agreed to say a few words in memory of the battle. Except that when we got to the tree, we found there was rather more than the small present boxes on its branches. Sometime during the evening it, like the one in the Welsh March all those centuries ago, had itself acquired a dead body!

Mrs. Foliot not unsurprisingly fainted at the unexpected addition, and everyone was swiftly ushered indoors, Doctor Agar posting three servants to keep watch over the body until the police arrived. A Sergeant Belvedere came within the half-hour, and after the body had been hauled down, Doctor Agar and I examined him. His wallet revealed him to have been one Mr. Arthur Byland, but apart from the general clutter that one might expect a young man to have had on his person, the only other thing of note was a small cameo brooch, which contained a lock of hair and a drawing of a lady. Not a professional drawing; possibly one the young man had done himself. It had the name 'Polly' on the back.

We estimated the time of death to be between six-thirty and seven-thirty, probably closer to the former, which tallied with the servants having finished loading the presents onto the tree shortly after six. The cause of death was a single bullet to the heart; the man had been shot at extreme close range, possibly with the gun pressed into his body, which would also explain why nothing was heard. The whole affair was quite shocking. We have no idea why this man apparently came here to get killed and ended up like poor old King Oswald, up a tree! I am sure that you can imagine the upset that the event has caused to everyone.

My search for lodgings continues, but no luck as yet.

Yours sincerely

Watson

+~+~+

Nonsuch House,  
Hawick,  
Roxburghshire

Wednesday August 9th, 1876

Dear Watson,

Your last letter was most interesting, but left out several pertinent pieces of information. Please supply the following in your next one:  
1) How much money was in the dead man’s wallet?  
2) Is it known as to how the man gained access to the garden?  
3) Did anyone leave the house between six and eight o’clock?  
4) How did the gentlemen of the house react to the discovery?  
5) Kindly describe the state and quality of the dead man’s clothes?

Of course the reason for his death is fairly obvious, but as to why he chose to die in that particular way is more troubling. I look forward to hearing from you shortly.

It has rained for the past eight days. I am wet!

Yours sincerely

S. C. Holmes, Esquire

+~+~+

Wishful Thinking  
Keynsham Square  
London 

Friday August 11th, 1876

Dear Holmes,

I suppose that I should have foreseen your interest in this peculiar matter. I did not approach Sergeant Belvedere, who seemed quite prepared to suspect me at one stage, but his replacement Constable Pilkington was much more amenable, especially after I told him of your successes in Oxford and Cambridge. I can answer your questions as follows:  
1) The wallet contained a single ten-shilling-note, and the coins in his pocket were six shillings, fourpence and three farthings. There were two bills (unpaid), one for a clothier and one for laundry, totalling just under five shillings. There was also a receipt for a gentleman's hat – a medium quality one, from the price and description - which I thought curious as the man was bare-headed and there had been drizzle on and off that day.  
2) There is an access path that runs along the backs of the houses on this side of the square, and a door in the back wall which is usually unlocked. Constable Pilkington assumes that the man came through there, but as it is in fairly common use, there were no footprints. The path from the door to the tree is gravelled, so there were no prints to be had. So far no-one has come forward about seeing the man arrive, or anyone in the area at the time.  
3) Only one person definitely went into the garden during the times you specified. Doctor Moore Agar came to check with his steward that all was going to plan, at exactly seven o’clock, but did not approach the tree. However, Mr. Rupert Agar’s statement stated that he was alone in the library between six-thirty and nearly eight o’clock, and there is a door out to the garden from there.  
4) Unfortunately I was taking more care of the body than observing reactions (apart from that of Mrs. Foliot, of course). However, I do recall that both Mr. Rupert Agar and the priest, the Reverend Petronius St. George-Marlborough (!), both looked quite pale. The reverend smelt slightly of alcohol, by the way.  
5) I do not understand the relevance of this question, but I personally thought that his clothes were exceptionally shabby, with the exception of his shoes, which were of high quality. Possibly at one time he had a watch, as the loop where one would have been attached was partly worn through, but there was none on him when we found him, nor was there a chain.

One other odd thing has since emerged from the police inquiries. The local stationmaster remembers a man answering Mr. Byland's description alighting from the 6.5 train, the station being about a quarter of an hour's walk away. He is sure that the man was carrying a tattered brown briefcase or something similar, yet there was no sign of any such object in or around the tree, despite the constable searching the gardens for it.

So, who done it?

Yours in anticipation

Watson

+~+~+

Nonsuch House,  
Hawick,  
Roxburghshire

Tuesday August 15th, 1876

Dear Watson,

We shall be moving onto our next stop in Gullane, East Lothian tomorrow. It has rained every day that we have been in Scotland; I am surprised that the country does not sink. And I am still wet! To add to my woes, my breakfast plate the other day contained something dark and unpleasant that was very firmly pushed to one side. There are some horrors that even I am not prepared to face!

To cap it all, Mother is threatening to buy herself a kilt! God take me now!

I think that you should recommend to Constable Pilkington that he may find it interesting to take a look at the recent collapse of the Cornubian Bank. I believe that at least one member of your current household will be shown to have had an interest in that institution.

Once we are in Gullane, I should have a definitive date for my arrival in London.

Yours sincerely

S. C. Holmes, Esquire

+~+~+

Wishful Thinking  
Keynsham Square  
London 

Tuesday August 15th, 1876

Dear Holmes,

I hope that this either reaches you in Hawick, or is forwarded to you on the Lothian coast. A most interesting development in the case occurred last night. Doctor Moore Agar had what I can only describe as ‘a blazing row’ with his son and heir Rupert, their voices raised so loudly that we – myself, and Mr. and Mrs. Foliot - could hear them even from the next room. The boy shouted that he no longer needed his father’s support as he had recently done very well by getting his money out of an institution just days before it collapsed. I would assume that he was referring to the recent and unhappy collapse of the Cornubian Bank, which has left many West Country investors ruined. It really was quite unseemly, the way in which he was gloating.

This happened on Monday night, and there was a further development this morning, which caused me to have to start this letter anew. It seems that the boy may have forged his father’s name on his original investments into that institution, which is of course a criminal offence. 

I shall write again if anything else of import occurs.

Yours sincerely

Watson

+~+~+

Wishful Thinking  
Keynsham Square  
London 

Wednesday August 16th, 1876

How the blazes did you know?

+~+~+

The Extra Hole  
Gullane  
East Lothian

Saturday August 19th, 1876

Dear Watson,

Kindly advise Constable Pilkington to check all gloves belonging to Mr. Rupert Agar.

I shall be in London next Saturday. If you would care to meet me off the train arriving to King’s Cross Station at shortly after six o’clock, we may discuss the case then.

It stopped raining this morning. For almost half an hour. I am still wet!

Yours sincerely

S. C. Holmes, Esquire

+~+~+

Wishful Thinking  
Keynsham Square  
London 

Monday August 21st, 1876

Dear Holmes,

Constable Pilkington arrested Mr. Rupert Agar today for the murder of the dead man, who turns out in fact to have been a Mr. Alan Selborne. Blood spatters were found on a pair of gloves that Mr. Rupert had thrown to the back on his drawer, and he broke down and confessed all. His father has insisted that the moneys he made be returned to the bank so it can be shared between the ruined investors; it will be precious little given the extent of the collapse, but I suppose that every little helps.

How on earth did you know? I cannot wait until Saturday!

Yours in extreme impatience

Watson

+~+~+

The Extra Hole  
Gullane  
East Lothian

Wednesday August 23rd, 1876

Dear Watson,

You will have to.

Yours sincerely

S. C. Holmes, Esquire

+~+~+

_[Resume narration by Doctor John Watson, M.D.]_

It had been a little over a year since I had seen Holmes, and I stood behind the ticket barrier at King's Cross Station feeling somewhat impatient. Fortunately the Great Northern Railway proved as punctual as ever, and the up express pulled in an impressive two seconds early. Its load of passengers divulged, I looked out for both Holmes' signature long coat and terrible hair, and soon spotted both. I smiled at him once he had handed in his ticket and we shook hands.

“I cannot wait to get you back to the house, to find out how you worked the case out”, I said fervently. He smiled.

“Mother insisted on booking me into the station hotel here”, he said with a small smile. “Fortunately she changed at Peterborough so she could descend on some poor friends in Norfolk. I shall check in, and we can discuss the case there.”

+~+~+

The dining-room at the station hotel was opulent, and I felt out of place in my relatively poor clothes. Holmes ordered coffee and bacon (of course!), and I had enough sense to wait until he had at least had his first drink. 

“The case hinged on the recent collapse of the Cornubian Bank”, he explained. “Even before our crossed letters, you mentioned that Mr. Rupert Agar had done well financially in recent times. Anyone who sold out of Cornubian shares, rather like those who did the same for the South Seas Company a century and a half back, would have done extremely well.”

“But where did poor Mr. Selborne fit into this?” I asked.

He downed his coffee, looked almost mournfully into the empty cup. Wondering how he could drink scalding hot liquid – my own cup was almost full still – I signed to the waitress for a further supply. That earned me a decidedly gummy smile from my friend. He waited until the waitress had brought his new cup before continuing.

“The key to making money from these things is to sell at the right moment”, he said. “I would conjecture that Mr. Selborne was in a position to know that information and, quite unwittingly, he communicated it to his friend Mr. Rupert Agar, who then shared it with his own friends and planned a mass selling of shares on the same day at the exact same hour. The effect was, of course, to precipitate a run on the bank and to ruin many people, including Mr. Selborne.”

“I do not know how, but Mr. Selborne became aware of Mr. Rupert Agar’s perfidy. He most probably threatened to confront the man’s father over the matter. There must have been solid evidence of what the young buck had done, for otherwise, why go to the extent of murdering him? It was one wealthy, well-connected man’s word against one ruined man. No, Mr. Selborne had some proof of the man’s perfidy – remember that he had a briefcase at the station that subsequently disappeared - and that, sadly, sealed his own doom.”

“Mr. Rupert Agar probably agreed to confess his dealings to his father and to return what moneys he could, provided Mr. Selborne came to the house ‘to stand with him'. He admitted Mr. Selborne through the back garden, probably spinning some yarn that he did not want his disgrace to be witnessed by everyone. Of course once he had the man at the back of the garden, he shot him; the sound of the gun was muffled because it was pressed against his victim. That in itself was indicative; it implied that the murder victim knew his killer well enough to allow him to stand close. Mr. Agar then hung the man on the tree, which from your description was easy as he was on the other side, out of sight of the house.”

“But why did he hang the body in the tree?” I asked, curiously,. “Why not just try to dispose of it?”

“The scene of the crime was against that”, Holmes explained. “Remember, you yourself said that the passageway that runs along the back was well-used, and he could not move any further into the gardens without the risk that someone talking a walk from the house might have seen him. No, the false identity was his best chance.”

“Constable Pilkington said that Mr. Selborne‘s landlady had found a note from him saying that he had to take a sudden trip to America, and would send for his things later”, I told him. “I suppose that you are right.”

He looked most offended.

“Of course I am!” he said firmly. “Which brings me to my other news. I believe that I may have found us some lodgings, available from next week. Or rather, my father has, and from his description, they look quite suitable.”

“Where are they?” I asked.

“Montague Street, near Russell Square and the British Museum”, he said. “The landlady is a Mrs. MacAndrew; a dour Scotswoman but a good cook, so I am told. It is just over a mile from your Harley Street, closer still to your own practice, and the terms are quite reasonable. Mrs. MacAndrew says we can go there any time to take a look, and if we are satisfied, to move in when we wish.”

It sounded good, and there was only the slightest feeling of wariness as I agreed to go with him to the place tomorrow. I was moving into my own place for the first time in my life, and I would be sharing with a man I barely knew. But all those problems lay ahead of me for now, and I could not wait to see what the new place would be like.

+~+~+

Our fourth case was all about... a fourth case!


End file.
